


But I Know It's My Own Damn Fault

by gh0stshrimp



Category: Batman: The Animated Series
Genre: Angst, Character Development, Desert Island Fic, Fluff, Hallucinations, Humor, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:07:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28125120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gh0stshrimp/pseuds/gh0stshrimp
Summary: What was he thinking, really?Sure, Jervis thought, in theory, retiring from crime and buying a private island, a beautiful beach house, and supplies shipped to him every week was an ideal way to spend the rest of one's days. A place not a soul, not even a soulless bat could disturb him. In his own, private Wonderland. What could go wrong?A lot, as it seems. And a bloody, fucking lot did, in fact, go wrong.A birthday gift for sinistarz.
Relationships: Jervis Tetch/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1

What was he thinking, really?

Sure, Jervis thought, in theory, retiring from crime and buying a private island, a beautiful beach house, and supplies shipped to him every week was an ideal way to spend the rest of one's days. A place not a soul, not even a soulless bat could disturb him. In his own, private Wonderland. What could go wrong? 

A lot, as it seems. And a bloody, fucking lot did, in fact, go wrong.

Not only was Jervis' beautiful beach house missing from where it was in the brochure of the plot he so delicately picked out, but the island itself looked completely different. He began to wonder if the lack of shelter was an error on his part, maybe he skimmed over an important part of the contract he had to sign an umpteen amount of times, but no. There was definitely, without a doubt something wrong with his Wonderland. 

"Aren't all islands supposed to look the same?" Alice asked from her lawnchair as Jervis was chopping up firewood for warmth that night. She was wearing a baby blue bikini, with sunglasses and a sunhat. "I think you're overthinking it, Jervis. We have everything we need right here." 

Jervis looked over at her with a glare, wiping the sweat from his brow. "The difference between this island and the one I wanted are a number of things, dear. For one, the lack of shelter. Another, food and water. And thirdly," he huffed as he cut a piece of wood with the makeshift hatchet he created out of wood and stone, "a decent cup of tea!"

Alice snorted and went back to her sunbathing. After a minute, she spoke up again, much to Jervis' annoyance. "Well, maybe you shouldn't have left Gotham. Ever think of that? You wouldn't be wasting away on this stupid island right now if you weren't always running away from your problems."

Jervis threw the hatchet in the sand, growling in frustration. "Why should I listen to anything you say? You're not even Alice!"

"Of course I'm not Alice. I'm a figment of your imagination. A mirage. Duh! And you're dehydrated. Severely."

Jervis whined in frustration and flopped himself down on the sand. "Bugger off, then! Haven't you done enough?" His brain was pounding in his skull, but Imaginary-Alice was right. He needed to keep a stiff upper lip and find more coconuts to drink from since he ran out of the rain water he boiled the day before. But closing his eyes and waiting for death was sounding more pleasant...

Jervis sighed helplessly, on the verge of tears. Alice was no help. There was only one person to turn to. He sat up and grabbed his friend from her perch on the nearby treestump and looked at her sadly. 

"Oh, Hattie...I'm beginning to think that I never will truly be at peace..." he sniffled. 

Hattie stared soullessly back at him. 

Jervis snarled, "Don't you bloody sass me--!!" He bunched the hat up in his fists and threw the hat down in frustration. He lay down helplessly and ran his hands over his ruddy face in defeat, hating how he could feel a beard growing on his chin and cheeks, how greasy and long his hair was getting. This was truly the worst way to spend a retirement. 

"Jervis!"

He grumbled and furrowed his brows in annoyance but ignored the voice. 

"JERVIS TETCH!"

He growled furiously and rolled his eyes behind their lids then froze. That wasn't Alice's voice. That wasn't even Imaginary-Alice's voice, and there might have actually been a difference seeing as he hadn't heard from her in over a year. It was a man's voice. And he sounded familiar. Jervis slowly sat up and peered toward the figure who was hollering at him from a small, shiny boat. He stared a moment as the man began running towards him, rubbed his eyes to make sure he was completely awake and not hallucinating, and looked up again with wide blue eyes. The man getting closer to him wearing a summer holiday attire complete with shorts, a Hawaiian shirt, sandals and sunglasses was completely unrecognizable. Jervis had to be dreaming. There was no one this rich who would know who he was, even if he was clean shaven and suited up. His possible savior was now knelt before him in concern. Jervis contemplated asking the stranger if he was indeed another of his hallucinations, a real man, or the Reaper himself coming collect his soul. 

Jervis opened his mouth to speak but all he could say was, "Who--" and cringed at the sound of his gruff voice. He cleared his throat to continue but the newcomer finally removed his sunglasses and spoke first.

"Jervis, it's me. Bruce Wayne? Do you remember me?" Jervis never thought he could feel waves of relief and shame both at once. He nodded and blinked hard, but was still confounded as to why he was imagining Bruce Wayne of all people to keep him company as he was dying. "Jervis, are you all right? You look dehydrated. Here, let's head back to my boat and we can get the hell out of here. I have water." Jervis took Wayne's arm and they started the trek back to the billionaire's boat. Jervis' mind was reeling with questions.

"How did you find me?" He asked the first question to come to mind.

"No offense, but this is my private island, Jervis. I came here to relax." Jervis froze and gaped up at the younger man. Then he felt his face burn with anger, which made his migraine worse.

"Excuse me? Your private island? I just bought this useless, good for nothing scrap heap over a month ago! What makes you...think..." Jervis suddenly felt like he was floating and his world suddenly became dark.

Jervis awoke what seemed like only minutes later, but it had to have been hours when he noticed the gorgeous island sunset he was starting to get sick of. There was a hand on his forehead that wasn't his and it put him more at ease. He opened his eyes and stared at his ex employer's worried expression. 

"Mr. Wayne?" Jervis cringed when he remembered their last conversation. "What are you still doing here?"

Wayne frowned. "I can't leave you here." 

"Oh..." Jervis managed a smile and felt warmth bloom on his face again, but not from anger this time. "Well...that's very kind of you."

Wayne looked away sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck. "Well...literally speaking, I can't leave you here, Jervis. My boat ran out of fuel. I guess there was a leak, I was lucky I even made it here. Jervis?" 

Jervis would have preferred Wayne just pour a bucket of ice water over him instead of telling him that news, as it gave him the same feeling. He felt the world darken again before waking at his face being slapped lightly.

"Hey, wake up, man! You should really drink some water. Here."

Jervis began to ingurgitate the bottle of water Wayne handed to him before the latter snatched it back. 

"Slowly. Or it's going to come right back up."

Jervis sighed and drank the water carefully. When he was finished, he crushed the empty plastic in his fist anxiously. "Thank you, Mr. Wayne."

Wayne scoffed. "No, no. Just Bruce, please. If I have to hear that for the next few days, I'll start to lose it." Jervis looked up, puzzled.

"A few days?"

Just-Bruce nodded. "My boat has tracking on it. Even though I couldn't get ahold of my advisor for help, they'll wonder where I am when I'm not at work on Monday."

"Thank God," Jervis could have wept. "I thought we'd be stuck here forever. Thank you, rather." Something clicked in the Hatter's weary brain. "Wait a tick. Did you say Monday?"

"Yes?"

"What's the date today?"

"September twenty-fourth."

One blue eye twitched and Jervis pinched the bridge of his nose, taking deep breaths to calm himself. "A week... I've been stranded here on this wasteland for only a week...?"

Bruce grinned. "Well, you look pretty good for being a castaway for a week."

Jervis gaped at the blatant lie the other man thought he could get away with telling him. "No, I do not. I don't even need a mirror to know I look like a bushwacker from the bloody Australian outback. Do you know how badly this hurts me?"

Bruce scoffed at him. "You're being dramatic. I think the more important thing to worry about is surviving on this island until Monday, if we're lucky."

"Well! It must be nice being handsome enough to only have to worry about that, Mister Wayne." Jervis turned away from Bruce and kicked the sand in frustration. "Bullocks! This is not how this was supposed to go. I-I was supposed to have a cozy little beachhouse with a lifetime supply of...well, supplies! Essentials! So I wouldn't have to worry about dying of dehydration! That's what I only paid for. I couldn't have possibly missed anything in that stupid contract..." Jervis began muttering to himself.

"Wait, back up." Bruce halted Jervis in his ramblings, looking puzzled for a moment. After a beat, he smirked up at the older man from where he was seated. "You think I'm handsome?"

Jervis gulped and felt his face burn for the third time that day. He did let that slip, didn't he? "I...well. You know, you're right. A-about surviving, that is. Rather, er...I'm going to. Firewood. Yes! I'm going to get some firewood. Don't go anywhere." And with that, Jervis Tetch scurried off, not before nearly forgetting his hatchet.

Bruce watched him go and glanced over at the bundle of chopped firewood beside him with an amused grin.


	2. Chapter 2

It took Jervis only a few hours to realize there was something off about his companion. Bruce had surprisingly formidable survival skills. For a billionaire. The night before while Jervis was gathering more wood for a fire, Bruce took it upon himself to catch their dinner. They had roasted flounder that night for supper, and although he'd had it every night and was getting rather tired of it, it was the best meal Jervis had all week.

"I must say I'm impressed you managed to catch all these flounder in only a couple of hours, Bruce," Jervis said after scarfing down all the meat off of one fish and reaching for another. 

Bruce turned his head so Jervis wouldn't see him laugh, "I'm sorry, I know this is going to come off as bragging, but I need to say it. You have the _worst_ concept of time, Jervis. You were only gone a half hour."

The Englishman really _tried_ to be irritated with that, but he couldn't help but grin with the other man. "I'm afraid I'm not of very good terms with him," he said without thinking.

"Who?"

"Time, of course."

Bruce just looked at him curiously, but not unkindly like most people would when Jervis made an obscure Carroll reference. Actually, it could hardly be counted as obscure if one actually bothered to read the book at least twice. Still, the longer Bruce looked at him like that, the more embarrassed Jervis felt. At least, that's what he _thought_ he was feeling. 

"Well, all the same, thank you again. I appreciate it."

"Oh, it's no trouble. It's the least I could do after forgetting the damn fuel."

Jervis shrugged and a thought came to his mind. "I must ask. Is this really your private island? It seems...uninhabitable."

Bruce stopped all movement for a brief moment, which Jervis noticed was rather odd behavior for such a reasonable question. Then he relaxed and shifted his position before saying, "I actually just bought it. I knew it needed some fixing up, but I didn't think it was this bad. I was stopping by to check it out." 

Something about the way Bruce explained this didn't sit well with Jervis, but he did think it was wise to confront him about it...yet. It wasn't that he thought his ex employer was lying per se, possibly not letting on the entire truth. 

"I see. It seems I should've done the same while accompanied with the man selling me property instead of assuming I would only be needing my suitcase," Jervis said bitterly. 

"Your suitcase?" Bruce perked up, looking all too relieved to change the subject. "Anything useful in there?"

"Yes, actually. I brought a kettle for my tea, but I've been using it to boil rain water to drink from," he said proudly, then deflated. "Oh, but I drank the last of it yesterday. Brilliant of you to show up when you did."

Bruce mumbled something that sounded a lot like, 'of course you brought the fucking kettle.' Jervis narrowed his eyes.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

***

It had been a pleasant night, they both slept on opposite sides of the dying fire. It seemed strange to think after the _eternity_ of a week Jervis had just experienced, but with company, _good_ company, it felt slightly more of a camping trip rather than fighting to survive on a deserted island. _Slightly._

The next morning, things took an interesting turn. The very last thing Jervis expected when he first opened his eyes was a sweating Bruce Wayne, peeling his undershirt off over his head and getting a complete view of his chest with dark hair trailing immodestly low, only stopped by the hem of his boxers which left very little to the imagination. His shirt was almost pulled up over his face, but Jervis could make out a morning stubble forming on Bruce's strong jaw. The way the morning light shined just right on Bruce emphasized the tones of his muscles and surprised Jervis to find himself paralyzed from where he lay. 

He was even more surprised to find the sight really wasn't helping his er, morning problem that was concealed perfectly with his blanket, thank Christ _._

The Englishman was so stunned he didn't notice Bruce watching him with amusement.

"Jervis? Are you all right?"

Jervis hardly registered the question. "Yes...I mean, what? Pardon?" He cleared his throat and his mind raced desperately for an excuse to his impolite staring. Bruce chuckled and tossed his shirt aside as he stretched against a tree. 

"I say, Bruce, where on earth did you get those scars?"

Bruce looked down in surprise, like he forgot they existed. "Oh. I was attacked by...a dog." Jervis raised a brow. _That_ sounded like a lie.

"Good lord," he said when a couple rather oddly shaped scars caught his attention. "Are those _bullet_ wounds?"

Bruce didn't meet his eyes. "Those are from a...dog with a gun."

Jervis narrowed his eyes and scoffed in disbelief at his companion. "Charming," he said sarcastically. If Imaginary Alice hadn't tested all the patience he had left to give, Jervis might have laughed.

Well. If he didn't want to tell him, fine. When he was sure his problem went away, Jervis shifted to his knees on the earth with a grunt. The aches in his joints when he woke up in the morning were the grim reminder he was getting old. His wandering eyes on Bruce's younger body had to be out of jealousy. That had to be it. The other man couldn’t have been more than ten years younger than him, although it seemed he had experienced more than Jervis ever had. Was coming to this island just another adventure for him? 

Jervis shook his head and stretched, keeping his shirt _on_ his torso. "How about we check further in the island for more coconuts? I imagine we'll run out of the water from your boat by the end of the day." Bruce nodded and together they ventured into the trees.

Their walk through the jungle to find better shelter did nothing, but end in Bruce getting attacked by a large, angry bird when he reached for its eggs. His bleeding cuts made from the sharp talons were concerningly large with one on his right bicep and the other on his right shin. How the beast managed to do some serious damage on two very different areas on a well built six foot tall man, Jervis had no idea. Mainly because his eyes had been squeezed shut when it happened up until Bruce sprang into action, fighting off the large fowl with a few punches before it flew away and the men retreated. Jervis was still in shock when he helped Bruce into the thick grass. The way he fought the bird off was quick, confident, and rather impressive. A tad _too_ impressive for someone like Bruce, if Jervis was being completely honest with himself. There would be plenty of time to ask what the bloody hell that was all about later. He removed his own shirt to stop the bleeding on both areas, which thankfully, weren't as deep as they looked. 

"Well," Jervis panted, "I suppose all things considered, you're very lucky it wasn't a mammal that attacked you. If it was and it had rabies, you'd be finished, and I would be in very _big_ trouble."

"More than you already are?"

Jervis opened his mouth to retort when a cactus-like plant a few yards away caught his eye and he gasped in disbelief. He rose to his feet and jogged over to the plant. He broke off a leaf before bringing it close for a better look. _Just as he thought_ , the inside of the leaf oozed a gel like substance. He laughed in relief. 

"Bruce! We're in luck, old boy!" He sang as he hopped back over to the younger man and waved the oozing plant in front of him. Bruce's eyes widened in surprise as Jervis went on: "Look! Aloe vera. Your wounds will heal in no time." He sat back down in front of him.

"Hold still..." He said gently, like he was speaking to one of his frightened little mice, even if Bruce was anything but. He almost laughed at the silly analogy.

Bruce watched Jervis as he tore off pieces of the leaf. "Wow, you found that so quickly. I'm lucky I have you around, Jervis." Jervis' heart swelled. When was the last time anyone praised him like this? He couldn't help but grin proudly. 

"Well, I _am_ a doctor, I will remind you. But I can't take all the credit, I've learned a lot from my fellow inmates at Arkham. Pamela Isely-- or, you might know her as Poison Ivy --seemingly rubbed off some of her green thumb onto me."

Bruce raised a brow. "Really? I only knew her briefly. Through my friend Harvey, I told you about him earlier. How did you get her to teach you so much about plants?" Bruce hissed when Jervis began to dab some of the aloe vera on his first, and slightly larger bloody wound. 

Jervis muttered an apology before chuckling sheepishly over the question. "On the contrary, Bruce, Ms. Isely doesn't think very highly of me. She empathizes more with...Alice. I can't say I'm surprised. Even though she _obviously_ hadn’t heard the full story," Jervis said gingerly, cringing at the memories of the woman publicly shaming him in the cafeteria over Alice more than once. Oh, he’d try explaining himself, sure, but Pamela was not having it. On one hand, Jervis _was_ glad she apparently cared for his Alice’s well being, but mostly disappointed that she, like many of his other Arkham peers, refused to even listen to his point of view. 

It seemed he just couldn’t make friends _anywhere_.

Jervis was quiet for a moment as he focused on the next wound on Bruce's leg. "Still, I pay attention to what she says about her plants. I pay attention to _everyone_." Bruce looked up at him curiously at that.

Jervis hesitated for a moment before ripping off the bloody sleeves from his discarded shirt to wrap around the wounds.

Bruce flinched and turned towards him at the sound of tearing fabric. "Oh, Jervis, you don't have to--"

"Oh, nonsense. I need something to dress your wounds, don't I? And _someone_ decided to leave his shirt on the beach." Jervis teased. He noticed Bruce's face heating up, most likely from being in direct sunlight and hurried along with the dressing.

As soon as Jervis finished tying the second wound, Bruce was already trying to get back on his feet with the help of a nearby palm tree. "Easy--" Jervis started as he stood with him, offering his shoulders for Bruce to throw his injured arm onto. "That's it...let's hurry back."

They hobbled back to the beach in silence.


End file.
